I’m sitting here, curled up in a big chair on the lodge patio. The wind nudges the wave ripples onto the beach, says hello to the birds, and then tickles my ears. The whippoorwills coo in the palm trees and I sip on pineapple juice that can only be this good on Bulago Island.
French Press coffee! Excuse me while I sip…
I can’t remember the last time I sat and relaxed all day in a truly peaceful place. This, of course, differs from being lazy. I can breathe deep, away from the dust and city. Away from obligations and strange people. Away from suffering. Not running away – just setting myself and my soul apart. Grounded in peace and in God. In the beauty of the world and the oxygen in my blood. I have committed to take a piece of this with me – down from the summit – and to remain emblazoned with the reflection of my Father. Peace be still. Peace be still. The Storm rages. Peace be still.
The lake is glass and life is clear. Not understood; simply pure.
Pure cane sugar. Pure goodness. Justice and mercy. Truth.
The Lord is Truth. I am true In Him. In Like Image. In Her? I am woman. She is In Me.
Words in Heart. Blood heart. Red heart. Red blood. Read me. Now read me. Understand. To satisfy. But to not be satisfied.
Change as the wind. Bend as the sail. Travel on water and head toward land. Toward the beacon on which we focus. The Light that leads us all on. Not to blind, but to illuminate. Stars in the eyes. Stars in the sky. In my eyes.
God that gives the Beacon of Light. Scatters the stars and narrows the Focus of Heart. Toward the Light. With the wind in my sails. Red in my heart. Over the glassy water. Smoothly at Peace. Peace through the Storm.
Through the Rage. Where’s the Light?
There. There is the Light. The Light is There. On the Path.
Peace. Be still.
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